Abandon All Hope, All Ye Who Enter Here

By Morrisa Sherman

My room in Hell is a high school auditorium. It has no windows, and the overhead fluorescent lights hum. The one on the left closest to the stage has been blinking erratically for the last 17,000 years. I keep calling the janitor to complain, but he just gives me excuses about how busy he is and tells me he'll get to it soon.

I can eat if I choose, all the Sloppy Joes, beefee-cheezy nachos, and Jell-O with tiny marshmallows floating in it that I want, but all the water fountains are out of order.

It's always just a little too chilly.

The worst part is that I just can not sit down and rest anywhere because the auditorium is thoroughly infested with demon lobsters, many thousands of them, especially around the bleachers and the stage. They habitually chase me about, scurrying determinedly after me on their scrabbling points, and tormenting me with their crusty pincers.

Alas!

Most ferries harm an island.

Copyright © 1995, Morrisa Stanfield Sherman.
This work may not be reproduced in any form without the author's explicit permission


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